


Mystic Messenger Headcanon!

by orphan_account



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: 707 | Luciel Choi's Real Name, Angst, Fluff, Headcanon, Past Abuse, Smut, V (Mystic Messenger)'s Real Name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:12:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9392864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: How would RFA + V & Saeran respond to learning that MC has an abusive father?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I will add a trigger warning here, there are some graphic depictions of emotional and physical abuse, self-hate, panic attacks, and hateful, derogatory terms. 
> 
> I wrote this in collaboration with my friend on Tumblr. <3

Jumin

It was your typical morning, you saw Jumin off to work like you did every morning, then you got showered and dressed yourself. You decided to curl up with Elizabeth 3rd and a good book. As soon as you got comfy, your phone chimed. Sighing, you lifted Elly (oops) off of your lap and walked across the room to where your phone was plugged in and charging. It was a text from your mother, asking if she could call. That’s weird, you thought, and responded, telling her to call. Almost instantly, your phone rang. “Hello!” you answered cheerfully. “Hello, darling, listen, has your father tried to get ahold of you at all? Has he been in contact?” You’re taken aback by the question. “No, Mom, I haven’t talked to Dad in years. Last I knew, he was in America.” “Not anymore, dear. He’s moved back. He’s back.” You couldn’t breathe. No words came out of your mouth, and you felt like you were drowning. You don’t know how much time has passed until you hear the front door opening and shutting, but you’re huddled in the corner of the room, taking short, shallow breaths. When Jumin sees you backed into a corner, eyes wide and face puffy from crying, he throws down his jacket and briefcase. His hands are all over you, “Where does it hurt, MC? What’s wrong, talk to me, should I call a doctor? Where’s my phone-” Your arms wrapping around his neck shuts him up. “My dad... has... moved back...from America.” You get out between pants. Jumin slides an arm under your knees and an arm behind your back, carrying you to the couch. He needs to get your breathing under control, or you’re going to faint. Practically forcing your knees apart, he gently pushes your head down until it’s between your knees and you’re staring at the floor. He’s rubbing your back, shushing you when you try to speak. “Tell me when you can breathe, Kitten.” You slowly gain control of your breathing, and Jumin’s hand leaves your back to hold one of your hands, allowing you to lean against the back of the couch. Your breathing is still uneasy, but it appears to Jumin that your panic attack has passed. “What is it, my love?” Tears well up in your eyes as you let it all loose. “My dad, he moved to America after my mom divorced him. He wasn’t a very nice man. He liked to leave marks on me and my mom. Sometimes, he’d hit us so hard, we’d have to go to the hospital.” To an outsider, Jumin would look stoic and unchanged by this shocking information, but you know your husband better than that. You can see the white hot rage twirling in his grey eyes. You gulp before continuing. “They were expecting another baby, when I was a teenager. He got angry at me one day, but I had school pictures the next day, so he couldn’t hit me. So he went after my mom. He put her in the hospital, and she lost the baby. He blamed me, and came after me with a kitchen knife,” you glance down at the faint scars on your bicep and forearm, Jumin following your gaze. He’d never asked about the scars, deciding you would tell him when you felt comfortable. He got his answer, it would seem. “My mom divorced him that day, and we hid. We jumped around, apartment to apartment until he gave up on finding us. We heard he got a job offer in America and left the country. That was 6 years ago. But I guess he’s moved back…” You trail off, refusing to meet Jumin’s eyes. His hand is still lightly running over the marks on your arms. Without a word, he stands and pulls out his phone. “Yes, Chief of Security. Please come to the penthouse. And bring your most competent employee.” He hangs up and moves to stand in front of you. Reluctantly, you meet his eyes, not knowing what to expect. He’s looking at you with more emotion than you thought possible. Fear, love, sympathy and pain are the ones that stand out to you. You rise from the couch and are engulfed in his arms. It’s almost painful, how tightly he’s holding you against his tall frame, but you have no complaints. There’s a knock on the door that startles you, and drags Jumin away from you. You shiver, and return to your warm seat on the couch. You recognize the chief of security, but the other security guard is a new face. Jumin escorts them to where you are seated. Both of them bow to you, and you nod your head in return. “Darling, you’ve met my chief of security, but this is…” Jumin trails off to allow the man to introduce himself. “My name is Mihyun Kim, and I will be your personal body guard, ma'am.” You look to your husband, but before you can say anything, Jumin says, “I want someone to be with you at all times, Kitten. If that man is as dangerous as you say, I will take no chances with your safety. Please, for me, do not fight this.” You sigh, and finally agree. Jumin thanks and dismisses the two men, telling Mihyun that he will be in contact. Elly jumps onto the couch and curls into your lap, purring loudly. After seeing the men out, Jumin returns to your side. “I love you, MC. Your father will never put his hands on you again, I swear to you.” He kisses you deeply, before retreating to the bedroom to freshen up before dinner. Several weeks pass without incident, and Jumin gets comfortable enough to allow you to go to a local shopping mall… as long as you take Mihyun. Reluctantly, you agree, deciding some company wouldn't be the worst. Walking down to the parking garage, you ask Driver Kim to take you and Mihyun to the mall. Mihyun is quiet, he mostly just monitors and assesses the surroundings. You try to start conversation with him a couple times, but he's a fan of short answers and he kills the conversation more than once. You decide to just let him do his job. Leaving a store, a man catches your eye. He looks familiar, maybe you've seen him in Jumin's office? You avert your eyes when you realize he's staring at you as well. Suddenly he looks angry. Seeing his face turned in anger, you recognize him - your father. The years have not been kind to him, he looks terrible. He keeps tripping over what seems to be a bum leg, running towards you. Oh god, he's running towards you. Of course, with Mihyun there, he barely makes it within talking distance before his arm is twisted painfully behind his back. Mihyun is yelling in his ear, asking who he is and what he wants with Mrs. Han. Your father sneers. “Married rich, did you? Uppity bitch. Where's your whore mother, she moved since I last saw her, and I wanted to give her a little something.” Hot, angry tears well up in your eyes as you approach your father and Mihyun. With all the strength in your body, you draw your arm back and slap your father across the face. “You don't get to know anything, you sack of shit! You never deserved us! I wish you were dead!” You're screaming in the middle of a packed shopping mall, but you can't bring yourself to care. You hate this man. He made you weak, helpless, he made you and your mother beg, cry and hide. No more. You are strong now, and you have a strong husband with money and power, who loves you fiercely. You lean in close to your father's face. “I want you to count your blessings that you only met my bodyguard today, and not my husband. Because I promise you, he would not be as kind as Mihyun here is being.” With that you tell Mihyun to release him, but to phone your husband. That is enough encouragement for your father to stumble away, swearing under his breath. Once he is far enough away, you let your tough front fall and begin to sob. Mihyun lightly guides you towards the exit, and the car. In the company car, your phone buzzes - Jumin. Sniffling, you answer. “Are you okay, Kitten? Mihyun filled me in, but I wanted to hear your voice, check if you're feeling okay.” “Yes, love, I'm okay.” You hear Jumin sigh. “I'm leaving work now, we will be filing a restraining order tonight. For both you and your mother. I'm sending a driver for her, so when you arrive at home, prepare for company.” “Yes, sir.” “And Kitten? I love you, dearly. And I'm sorry.” At the penthouse, you sit with Jumin, your mother, a police officer, and Jumin's family lawyer. With the documents just typed up, your father cannot come near you or your mother, ever again. Jumin pushes for you to press charges, for the scars on your arm. You just shake your head, to Jumin's dismay. After everyone has left, and you're finally alone with your husband, he asks, “Why don't you want to press charges?” You approach him, wrapping your arms around his middle, pressing your ear to his chest to hear his heartbeat. “Because, my love, I just want him gone. I want him out of my life. If I press charges, there will be a long, ridiculous process. I'll have to testify, and I don't like courtrooms. I just want it done.” You're starting to get emotional, so Jumin says he understands and hold you close. After a moment, Jumin chuckles. Leaning back to look at your husband's face, you look at him, curiously. He just shakes his head and confesses, “ I just can't understand how a man could lay hands on his wife, and his daughter. The two most important women in his life, and he knocked you around like you meant nothing. It's ludicrous.” You smile and laugh. “That's why you'll be a great father, Jumin…” “...What? What did you just say, Kitten?”

 

Zen

You’re curled up on the couch on a rainy afternoon. Zen is flipping through a script and you’re trying to beat your high score on Crossy Road. Suddenly, your phone chimes, telling you that you have an email… from your mother. It’s a reminder of a family gathering next week, and that you are expected to be there. No excuses, no exceptions. You had completely forgotten. You sit frozen until Zen pokes and prods you out of your shock. As you raise your head to meet his eyes, hot stinging tears threaten to fall. Zen panic mode 100%. He pulls the phone from your hands and reads the email. Nothing sticks out to him, other than the fact that your mom is a bit abrasive and bossy. But the look of fear in your eyes as you stare past him, to the wall, tells him there’s something he needs to know. Grasping your now empty hands, he stares into your eyes. “Princess…” At the sound of his voice, you crack. Tears spill from your eyes as you sob out, “I will… have to see my father -hic-, Zen. It’s… he’s not safe. He’ll hurt… me, or you.” Zen freezes. “Your father hit you?” You chuckle through your tears, “Hit would be… an understatement.” You watch Zen’s jaw lock and feel his arms tensing up. “Tell me everything, MC. No, no, babe... I need to know.” he says, as you shake your head violently. He stops you with a hand on either side of your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I need to know so I can tell the police why I killed him.” You smile weakly and let out a shaky breath. “At first, it was only when he was drunk. As I got older, he didn’t need to be drunk to hit me. It started when I was young, 5 or 6, with spankings and slaps on the face when he thought I’d been bad. When I was twelve, I broke a plate - he broke my arm. Mom told everyone that I had tripped and fell down a flight of stairs. According to my mother, I was always very clumsy. My bruises and black eyes were a product of my inability to be graceful. When I was sixteen, I crashed the family car. Or rather, a drunk driver hit our car. My father made me wish I’d died in that crash-” Zen cuts you off by standing up straight. He doesn’t know if he can hear anymore. He walks to the other side of the room and drives his fist into the drywall. You flinch and tears well in your eyes. Zen instantly regrets showing his anger like that. He runs to you, crushing you against his chest. “I love you, I’m so sorry. You don’t have to be afraid anymore, MC. You’re safe.” You shake your head. “No, Zen! I’m not safe. He’ll be there, at the party. I’ll have to see him, and he’ll put his hands on me!” You’re getting hysterical and all Zen can do it stroke your hair. “Then we won’t go to the party, MC. Fuck them.” You sigh. “I can’t. I have to go. My family will never forgive me if I don’t go.” Now Zen sighs. It doesn’t make sense to him, as he left his family as soon as he could, but he understands and respects your choice. “Fine, but I swear to God, your father better not even fucking look in your direction. I’ll kill him, MC. I promise I will, in front of your entire family.” You pull him in for a deep kiss. “I know.” It’s the night of the party, and you’re so nervous you could vomit. Your hands pull at your knee length black dress, wrinkling it, but you couldn’t care less. Zen looks as handsome as ever in the suit you picked out for him, but you can see worry wrinkles on his brow. Tonight will not be good for his skin. In the backseat of the taxi, on the way to the party, Zen looks into your eyes. “Just say the word, babe, and we’re gone. We’ll only stay as long as you can handle it.” You smile and plant a kiss on his furrowed brow. That seems to relax it a bit. That is, until you pull to a stop in front of the dance hall. Inside, you find your entire family, many of them in various stages of inebriation - your mother included. Spotting you, she gives you a half-assed smile and wave, before turning back to your cousin. “I haven’t seen my mom in 2 years… that’s the ‘hello’ I get.” You whisper to Zen. His response is a tightened grip on your waist. Your breath catches in your throat, causing you to choke and start coughing as you spot your father. To your dismay, he’s very drunk, and your coughing fit has caught his attention. He begins marching towards where you and Zen are standing. Zen is patting you on the back, trying to help you catch your breath, and doesn’t see your father until he’s a couple of feet away. Assuming the man stomping into your immediate space is your father, Zen moves you half behind him and stands, legs wide and arms crossed, not even attempting to hide his defensive position. “MC, Darling, your mother and I have missed you. I’m disappointed, you should have called us more. Who is this guy, why are you hiding from me?” Your father’s voice grows in volume as he drunkenly rambles on, drawing the attention of nearby family. “You know why I stayed away, Dad. This is my boyfriend, Zen.” At the introduction, Zen sticks one hand out, to shake your fathers hand. Your father just laughs, “Stayed away from your loving, supportive parents to spread your fucking legs for some pretty boy. How typical of you, MC.” Zen’s extended hand clenches into a fist and you grab his arm. “C’mon, Zen, let’s just go. I don’t want to be here anymore.” He allows you to pull him towards the exit, his eyes not leaving your father. Zen turns to guide you out of the hall, and your father takes this chance to dash forward and rip you backwards and to the floor by your hair. Before you can register what’s happening, Zen is on your father. There is an audible crack when Zen’s fist makes contact with your father’s nose. On his way down to the floor, he catches a swift kick from Zen’s boot to his ribs. Another crack pierces the silence of the dance hall. Everyone in the room is staring, eyes wide, but you don’t care. Zen extends a hand down to you and lifts you from the floor, until you’re standing on your own. “Whatcha say we get out of here?” Zen winks at you. “Gladly” you choke out through the tears. The two of you leave without a backwards glance. On the way home, Zen stops and gets you take out and you spend the rest of the night on the couch with him, alternating between cuddling, tickle fights, and making love. The next day, you call the phone company to change your phone number and deactivate your email. You’ll be damned if your “family” ever tries to contact you again. All you need is Zen.

 

Yoosung

If you had your way, every night would be like this: a tangle of arms, legs, sheets, and the occasional snack. You giggle as Yoosung peppers kisses across your bare stomach. He rolls to lay back on the bed, pulling you with him, so you’re lying with your hands on his chest. You brush his ruffled blonde hair from his eyes and smile as he looks up at you. You love him, so much. He pulls you up to meet his lips, eager to taste every inch of your mouth. Shifting your weight a little, you’re now straddling his waist. Between kisses to your lips and neck, Yoosung whispers, “Hit me, MC, please.” You halt, unsure if you heard him correctly. You pull away and look at him, questioning. His eyes are half lidded as he repeats, “I want you to slap me in the face.” When you throw your face in your hands and begin shaking, Yoosung thinks you might be laughing at him. Sitting up a bit, he asks, “What? Why are you laughing?” Only when he hears a sob escape your chest, does he snap into reality and wrap his arms around you. “Oh God, MC, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Is it because I asked you to hit me? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, I was just being silly!” Yoosung is talking a mile a minute, and it’s making it hard for you to breathe. He realizes this, and shifts you off of his lap, onto the bed. Wrapping you thoroughly in the sheets, he yanks his sweatpants up and stumbles out of the room. You hear loud noises coming from the kitchen, and Yoosung reappears with a giant bowl of ice cream and two spoons. Making room for him in the cocoon he created, the two of you cuddle up and start in on the ice cream. After you’ve calmed down a bit, Yoosung kisses your cheek, his lips cold against your flushed face. You smile, and offer a small apology. “Nonsense, MC, if I upset you, I should be the one to apologize.” You cast your eyes down. “No, baby, you didn’t necessarily upset me. I don’t really like violence. My father was… not a very peaceful person…” You trail off, hoping Yoosung would leave it be at that. He either doesn’t get it, or refuses to, because he pries further. “What do you mean, he wasn’t peaceful?” “He hit me, Yoosung. As much as he could. My father was not nice.” Your boyfriend’s face drops. “Why - no, how? How could he hit you?” You sigh and unleash your entire story to him. “My father never used his hands to hurt me. It was always belts, shoes, miscellaneous thrown items, and a couple of times, a bat.” Tears welled up in your eyes, as Yoosung flinches at the word “bat”. You watch his face, waiting for him to tell you to continue. He nods, tears threatening to fall from his eyes as well. “There was never a reason, he seriously just enjoyed it - the pain he caused me. Seeing me writhing in pain made him happy.” Yoosung looks like he might be sick. “He kept abusing me, for years, until he finally got caught. Our neighbor had stopped by to borrow our lawn mower, and through the window, he saw my father smacking me across the face with a belt. He called the police, and testified that he’d seen it first hand. He also told them that I was always covered in bruises. They found him guilty on all counts. He’ll get out of prison when I’m 40 years old…” By the time you trail off, Yoosung is sobbing harder than you are. You reach for his hand, but he snatches you close to his chest, stroking your hair. “You’ll never be harmed again, MC, I swear. He can’t hurt you ever again.” Months have passed, Yoosung had proposed to you. Your wedding is set for 6 months from now, and you’ve never been happier. You’ve sent out the “Save the Date” cards and are sitting in your living room, looking through flower types. You hear a light knock on the front door. You aren’t expecting company, so it startles you a bit. Suddenly, through mail slot, one of the Save the Date cards you sent out slides inside. Gingerly, you pick it up. It’s addressed to your aunt, your father’s sister. You see writing on it that isn’t yours. In sloppy, sideways handwriting, someone had written, “Get fucked” in red pen. Classy, you think, as you crumple the note. A pounding on the door makes you jump back and yelp. “Open this fucking door, MC, I know you live here.” Eyes wide, you’re frozen. Your father. Why is he out of prison, and how did he find you? Stupidly, you look down at the Save the Date. Of course, it has your home address on it, the return address for RSVPs. Your aunt must’ve decided that your father needed to know that you were getting married. You cursed her, and another succession of pounding on the door brings you out of your shock. Quicky, you send a text to your fiance, Help, Dad is here. He found me. After hitting send, you dial for the police. Your father has started ramming his full body strength against the door. You know the door won’t hold for long, but it’ll buy you time. In the kitchen, you grab the biggest knife you can find, and lock yourself in the bathroom. You hear the front door give way, bursting open. Holding your breath, you put a hand on your phone, silencing the vibrations. “Come out wherever you are, MC. I’ve got big plans for you…” Your dad is almost singing out taunts, as he ransacks your apartment looking for you. His footsteps are getting closer to the bathroom, and you make yourself as small as you can. The bathroom door is not nearly as sturdy as your front door, and gives way at your father first kick. Shrieking, you hold the knife towards him. He smirks, “Are you going to stab me? Really?” Dodging your weak thrusts, he knocks the knife from your hand, grabbing your wrist and dragging you into the hall. You notice your front door hanging wide open, and let out the loudest scream you can manage. Your father rewards this action with a kick to your chest. You gasp and choke, the air stolen from your body. Your vision is black and fuzzy at the edges, and everything sounds far away. Your father releases your wrist and is shouting something, but you can’t focus. You start to fade, your brain not getting enough oxygen. The last thing you hear before darkness takes you, is your father scream. When you come to, you’re in a hospital bed, and Yoosung is holding your hand. He has a black eye and it’s apparent that he’s been crying, probably for hours. Seeing your eyes open, his own bright lavender eyes light up. “Oh, MC, I was so worried. How do you feel?” You are unsure if you can talk without crying, but you gulp and say, “I’m okay, Yoosung, what happened to your eye?” He subconsciously touches his cheek, “Oh, your father was quicker than I thought.” It all comes back to you, making your chest heave and bile rise in your throat. “Oh God,” you choke out. Yoosung shushes you, stroking your face and hair. “He’s back in prison, MC. With another 20 years added onto his sentence, if Jumin is right. And even when he gets released… he can’t walk. Ever again.” The last part of the sentence, Yoosung is barely mumbling. You have to sit up and look at him, before the reality of what he says sinks in. “Yoosung… what… what did you do?” “I, um, saw him kick you, and I sort of freaked out. I took him out at the knee. With a metal baseball bat.” You blink, unsure of what to say. “...Where did you find a baseball bat?” Yoosung is staring down at his feet now, completely avoiding eye contact with you. “After you told me about your dad, I bought it… in case he ever showed his face again.” The doctor walks into the room, and asks you if you have any discomfort. All you can do is shake your head, no. The doctor smiles and informs you that you should be fine to leave in a few hours then. Bowing his head, he excuses himself from the room. You sit in silence for awhile, both unsure of what to say. “...Thank you, Yoosung. For coming to my rescue.” Yoosung finally looks at you, tears in his eyes. “I just got so mad, MC, he was hurting you and he made me break my promise to you and I just wanted to make him feel what he did to you for all those years…” You stop his rambling with a gentle finger on his lips. “Breathe. I’m not upset with you. He’s a terrible man, and he deserves whatever you did to him. Just please, never tell me exactly what happened.” Your fiance lets out a weak laugh and smiles at you. Moving your hand from his lips to his cheek, you pull him in for a kiss. He sighs into you. You’re finally released from the hospital, but until your front door is repaired, you and your fiance have to stay at a hotel. While Yoosung grabs your bags, you go to the check in counter to get the room key. In the elevator, Yoosung holds your hand and hums to himself. When you unlock the door to the hotel room, there’s a trail of rose petals leading from the door, to the bed and to a jacuzzi bath. “Oh, Yoosung, this is so sweet-” You’re cut off by his mouth on yours. Suddenly, the bags are forgotten, as are your dinner reservations. The rest of the night is spent in the jacuzzi, in the bed, and even on the balcony. This boy will be the death of you.

 

Seven

The sound of coughing from the living room wakes you from your mini nap you’d just laid down for. You sigh and push yourself off the bed. Saeyoung has been sick for almost a full week, and he’s the biggest baby, possibly ever. Instead of going to a doctor, like you’ve brought up numerous times, he prefers your care, in the comfort of your shared apartment. “You’re such a good nurse, MC, why would I want some gross doctor touching me?” Rolling your eyes, you make your way into the living room. Saeyoung is bundled on the couch, couching into his many blankets. “Did you take your medicine yet?” You ask, startling him. “No, I’m fine, MC. I don’t want anymore medicine.” Placing your hands on your hips, you say, “It’s either the medicine or the doctor, Sae. Choose.” Saeyoung stands from the couch, blankets cascading around him like a cape. “NEITHER!” He shrieks and makes a mad dash for his computer desk. Or rather, tries and collapses into a coughing mess on the floor. Between coughs, he’s crawling to his computer. You can only shake your head and facepalm. He finally pulls himself into his computer chair and turns to beam at you. “Are you pleased with yourself, Sae?” He smiles wider, adding a hint of wickedness. “I just think it’s unfair that you want me to go to the doctor. Do you even go? How many times have you been to the doctor? Tell me, or I’ll just have to hack in and find out myself…” Panic sets into your chest and you suck in air through your teeth. “That is completely different, you’re the one who is sick, now get your butt back on the couch-” Too late. He’s already typing away. “Saeyoung, stop. Seriously, stop. Please?!” At the crack in your voice, Saeyoung turns around, eyes wide. Your medical history is displayed wide on his dual monitors, but his eyes are on you. “MC...what..?” You sink down onto the couch and look at your hands. “...Hospitalized twelve times for broken arms. Multiple concussions, fractured legs? MC, what is this?” Hot tears are streaming down your face, blurring your vision but you hear Saeyoung rise from his chair and sink to the floor in front of you. “What...happened?” You raise your head slightly to meet his eyes, your pain reflected in his honey colored irises. “My dad-” you start before your words catch in your throat. That’s all you need to say though. Saeyoung understands immediately. Grabbing both of your hands in his, he kisses your forehead. “Have you washed your hands recently?” You ask, cracking a slight smile. He grins and shakes his head. You pull your hands away and dramatically wipe your hands on your pants. “What is his name?” His question catches you off guard. “Seung-jun. Seung-jun Park. Why?” An evil grin spreads across your boyfriend’s face. “Let’s have some fun.” Suddenly, he’s not kneeling in front of you, he’s at his keyboard, typing faster than you’ve ever seen. Slowly rising off the couch, you start to see various websites popping up on Saeyoung’s monitors. Facebook, Tinder, and an email site are the ones that stand out to you. Leaning in close, you use his chair for support. Reading the name on the Facebook profile, the realization hits you like a truck - Saeyoung is hacking into your father’s online accounts. Literally all of them. Your heart swells with adoration, and panic. “Sae, wait, what if you get caught?!” He looks at you through the corner of his eye. “Are you doubting my abilities, MC? I’m disappointed. I’m God Seven! Defender of Justi-” A coughing fit cuts him off. You softly pat him on the back until the fit passes. He turns to you and pulls you onto his lap. “Seriously, MC. Do I have your permission?” Slowly, he presses a kiss on your cheek, then your neck. You take a deep breath. “Permission for what, Sae?” Coming up for air from your neck, he smiles. “To ruin your father.” You lean back, unsure of what your boyfriend means. You look to the monitors, adding up everything. Oh. Hacking. “...Go get him.” You close your eyes when you answer him, so you don’t see his smile almost crack his face, and his eyes light aflame with satisfaction. Keeping you on his lap, he turns back to his desk, and resumes typing. You watch as your father’s Facebook becomes flooded with pictures of penises. His tinder profile now proudly states that he likes to have brooms inserted in his anus, while wearing a fur suit. Saeyoung turns his attention to your father’s email, reading some seemingly important ones, responding with nonsensical messages about doing drugs before work. Across the room, you hear your phone chirp. You poke Saeyoung until he turns and lets you stand. Picking up your phone, you see you have 4 missed texts. When you see who the texts are from, your breath catches in your throat. “Saeyoung, stop. Please.” Confused, he turns to you and finds you staring at your phone. “He knows it’s us, Sae. He’s threatening us. If we don’t stop, he’ll find us.” “MC, listen to me. I’m not scared of him. And you don’t have to be afraid anymore. He’s just another spineless elite, who wants to hide dirty, little secrets that might tarnish his reputation.” The venom in his voice reminds you that you’re not the only one whose father wasn’t the best. “I can end him for good, MC, just say the word.” Your phone chirps in your hand again, displaying another text: “I warned you. I’m coming for you.” You look back up at Saeyoung, who is still awaiting your response. You simply nod, and he turns to the computer. Turning off your phone, you stand behind his chair, watching as he types an email. It contains your entire medical history and a brief description of how none of your injuries could have happened the way the report states - that your father did all of it to you. The email is addressed to your father’s boss, the head of the police department, and many of your father’s close friends. After he hits send, Saeyoung shuts down his computer and stands, turning to you. Opening his blankets, he invites you to hug his chest. Wrapped in his arms and the blankets, you can almost forget the shit storm that is probably headed your way. That is, until Saeyoung’s phone starts ringing. “It’s the police captain.” He answers and talks to the captain for what seems like hours. You’re lying on the couch, starting to drift to sleep, when Saeyoung’s hand on your thigh jerks you awake. “I’m sorry, MC, I didn’t mean to startle you. The police are searching for your father right now. He’s a wanted man, I guess he ran from police earlier. He’s been fired as well. He can’t find us. And even if he does, my security system will keep him out.” You smile sleepily and hold his hand. He squeezes himself between you and the back of the couch, pressing his chest against your back. “Sae? You’ve been coughing less.” He chuckles, “I guess I’m feeling better. Maybe revenge is the best medicine.” You smile and snuggle into his arms, safe and sound.

 

Saeran

It’s a quiet night, you’re cooking dinner for yourself and your boyfriend and from the other room, you hear your phone ringing. Knowing Saeran, he’ll either bring it to you or answer it. As if on cue, your ringtone stops and you hear Saeran saying “Hello?” It’s quiet for a long minute, and you decide to investigate. Peeking your head out of the kitchen door, you see Saeran listening with a puzzled look on his face. You approach him, ready to take the phone. His eyes finally meet yours and you see sadness reflected back at you. He hands you the phone without a word. “Hello?” you say quietly. “Yes, MC, this is Doctor Sung at Seoul National University Hospital. Your mother was brought here moments ago, after suffering a heart attack. I regret to inform you that she has passed.” Your brain stops registering everything, and your vision goes white. “MC!” You hear Saeran call out as your knees give way and you crash to the floor. You see visions of your childhood, both happy and sad. Running around a playground, your mother chasing you, playful shrieks - with the clap of your hands, the shrieking turns shrill and your mother is screaming for help. A large shadow looms over the both of you, and your mother casts her arms around you, trying to shield you from the blows the shadow figure strikes against you. The shadow figure is laughing and screaming, all at once, it’s voice mixing with your mother’s cries. You cry out, waking yourself up. You’re on your couch, in your home, safe, Saeran’s hands firmly holding your head. His eyes are searching yours and you can see the panic in them. As your breathing settles, you sit up and pull Saeran to sit with you. His hands leave your face and rest in your lap. He looks worried and tired. “I’m so sorry, MC. I’ve never been close enough to my parents to know how it feels to lose one, but I know how to grieve.” You nod, vigorously, not wanting to force him to talk about his childhood, or his mother. “No, Saeran, it’s okay, I was just shocked. And then… I guess I fainted…” You trail off, unsure if you could say you were dreaming or hallucinating. “You were screaming, MC.” Hearing his words, you finally break down and cry. All of your grief pours out, all of the anger at the shadow figure comes out, how dare he take her away? Gasping, you meet Saeran’s eyes. He strokes your hand as you sob. He’s such a sweet boy, but unsure of how to provide comfort or support. “I know who the shadow figure is.” You accidentally say out loud. “...What?” Saeran looks mildly confused, and you choke back a soft laugh. “When I was unconscious, I was… dreaming, I suppose. I saw a shadowy figure. He was attacking my mother and I. I know who he is… It’s my father. My father killed my mother.” Your boyfriend stares at you, unsure of how to respond. “She had a heart attack, MC. I’m sure the doctor would tell you if she were killed in an unnatural way.” You shake your head, refusing his comforting words. “NO. No, Saeran, trust me, I know him. And I know her. She was the picture of health. She never smoked, she exercised regularly and took vitamins. My father, on the other hand… He’s… Like your mother.” You say the last part, almost whispering. Saeran visibly tenses, and squeezes your hand tighter. “MC, did your dad abuse you?” Crawling into Saeran’s lap, you start sobbing, providing the answer to his question. Shaking his head, he holds you close and lets you cry. You know you don’t need to provide any examples or stories from your past, because there is no one in the world that understands more than your boyfriend. In this moment, you feel so close to him. You eventually drift off to sleep, with Saeran stroking your hair. You wake up to the sound of voices. Groggy, you rub your eyes with the back of your hands, and sit up to see Saeran talking on the phone and writing something on a sheet of paper. Getting off the couch, you wrap a blanket around yourself and walk to where Saeran is sitting. Wordlessly, he opens his arms, inviting you to curl up into his lap. You happily oblige, peeking around his hand at the words he’s writing. Funeral arrangements. Your jaw drops as you turn and look at him. He’s talking to your family, helping with funeral arrangements. Tears well up in your eyes, you’re so grateful for this troubled boy. Still holding the phone to his ear, he sets down the pen and brings his hand to your chin, pulling you in for a deep kiss, whispering, “I love you” against your lips. With that, he nudges you off his lap, so he can stand and stretch. By the length of his stretch and groan, he’s been sitting for awhile. “Thank you, yes. Yes. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss. Goodbye, then.” Hanging up the phone, he pulls you close to him, running his hands up and down your back. “All of the arrangements are set, MC, your aunt is taking care of most of it. She called while you were asleep and accepted my help. I told her you were not taking it well and were resting.” “I love you,” is all you can choke out, as more tears well up in your eyes. The day of the funeral has finally come, and every time you feel as though you won’t be able to do this, Saeran grasps your hand and kisses your forehead. In the viewing room, your family gathers around, chatting quietly in small groups. Despite your grief, you feel an overwhelming sense of pride at how strong Saeran is being. He’s made it a point to talk to most of your family, making small talk and providing condolences. He’s come so far from when the two of you met… “How dare you show your face here.” A familiar voice snaps you back to reality. Turning around, you see your father glaring down at you. Before you can say anything, he barks, “She died because of you, MC! You broke her heart when you moved away, when you said those terrible things about me! She couldn’t take it anymore, and that’s how she died. She died of a broken heart!” By the end of his rant, he’s bent over, screaming in your face. “No, n-” You start to yell back, but are cut off by your father grabbing your arm and twisting. You cry out, and try to pull away, but he just tightens his grip. That is, until Saeran’s fist crashes into his mouth. Startled, your father releases your arm, and your aunt pulls you close to her. Saeran is practically breathing fire. You have never seen him this angry. Your father spits out blood and smiles. “You’ve made a big mistake, little boy.” Saeran smirks and gestures ‘come on’ to your father, which he does. He runs at Saeran, but is too slow. Saeran dodges to one side, and trips your father, making him crash into a table nearby. Before your father can recover, Saeran is on top of him, landing fist after fist to his face, screaming, “How could you hurt them?! Why does a piece of shit like you get away with something like that?!” You pull away from your aunt to grab him. He looks at you with wild eyes, and you pull on his arm, trying to get him off your father. Saeran allows himself to be pulled off, but he continues yelling at your father, who is slowly lifting himself off the ground. His nose is definitely broken, and blood is pouring down his face. “All of you fuckers, never speak to me again. You’re all dead to me. Especially you, MC, and your crazy fucking boyfriend.” With that, he storms out of the funeral home. Saeran is still breathing erratically, but he turns to you and softly strokes your face. Kissing you on the forehead, he wordlessly begins to pick up the table and chairs that had been disturbed during the fight. Shortly, several people are lined up to shake his hand, which baffles him to the core. The rest of the funeral progresses without a hitch, and as you’re leaving, your aunt embraces you and says, “I’ll be opening an investigation into your mother’s death. That man is not getting away with this.” Tears in your eyes, you smile and thank her. Saeran’s arms wraps around your waist, “Ready to go home, love?” You nod, and allow him to lead you to the car. The ride home is silent and loaded. You have many things to say and ask him, but you leave the silence unbroken. Arriving home, Saeran unlocks the door and chokes out a sob. Dropping your coat and purse, you reach for him, but he’s already dropping to his knees, face buried in this hands. His knuckles are scabbed over from colliding with your father’s face repeatedly. On your knees in front of him, you quietly whisper his name, and run your hands softly over his hair, arms and back. He shakes his head and mumbles something against his hands, and you sigh. “Saeran. Sae, please, you’re okay. Talk to me, what’s wrong?” His hands drop into his lap, and he allows you to wipe the tears on his cheeks away. More tears just replace the ones you wipe. Placing your hands on his cheeks, you force him to raise his head and look at you. His mint green eyes are full of so much pain, you feel a hot prick in your own. “I’m sorry-” He chokes out, more tears gathering in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to get so angry, but he made me think of my mother and-” He stops to plant kisses on your cheeks, now wet with a combination of both of your tears. “I love you, MC. Please don’t be angry with me.” You sigh, wrapping your arms around his back. “Never, Saeran. I actually enjoyed watching you kick my father’s ass. He deserved it.” Saeran smirks and stands, wrapping his arms around you, so that he is carrying you. He plops you down on the couch, “Find us a movie to watch, I’m going to make dinner.” You giggle and pick up the remote. Saeran is cooking dinner, Lord help us all.

 

Jaehee

The coffee shop is closed for the day so you and your girlfriend, Jaehee, decide to do a little shopping. After looking at several clothing racks, you find an incredibly cute dress and decide to try it on. In the fitting room, you can’t seem to zip the back of the dress. Glancing at the size label, you’re appalled. Tears well in your eyes when you realize that it’s too small on you, and that’s why it won’t zip. You suck in short, deep breaths to fight off the tears, but Jaehee has an almost “ MC-Spidey sense”. She knocks on the door to the fitting room, “MC, are you okay? How does the dress look?” You quickly rub your eyes to remove any stray tears. Opening the door, you plaster on a fake smile. “Oh, Jaehee. No, it doesn’t quite fit… Can we go home? I don’t feel well.” Jaehee simply smiles and nods. In the taxi, on the way home, you’re silently lost in thought, staring out of the car window. You think back to your father’s words the day you left home. Or rather, the day he kicked you out of “his” home. You’ll never be good enough for anyone, MC. You’re just a fat, useless, waste of space. You’ll have to marry rich, because you’re definitely too stupid to do anything else. What do you mean you’re gay? You’re a lesbian?! Get out of my fucking house, you disgrace! We refuse to let a fat dyke live in our home. “MC? Are you okay, dear?” Jaehee is pressing the back of her hand against your forehead. You turn away from the window and your teary eyes meet her bright, brown eyes. The look of concern on her face deepens, and her hand moves to your cheek, softly stroking. “What’s going on, MC? Why are you crying?” The levee breaks and you let your sobs escape you. She scoots closer to you and holds you while you cry, until the taxi comes to a stop - you’re home. Opening your door for you and paying the taxi driver, Jaehee leads you inside, one hand wrapped around your shoulders. She guides you to the couch and goes to the kitchen to get you a cup of tea. While Jaehee is in the kitchen, you get off the couch and go to the bathroom. There’s a scale on the floor, which you drag out from its spot and turn on. Stepping on the scale, you cringe at the number it displays. A loud, gross sob escapes your throat and you clamp your hand over your mouth. It’s too late, though, and seconds later, Jaehee yanks the door open. You’re a sight to see, that’s for sure. You’re stripped down to your underwear and undershirt, standing on the scale, with one hand gripping your hair and the other over your mouth. Tears are streaming down your face, and all you can do is choke out, “Jaehee-” before dropping to your knees. Jaehee catches you halfway down, so you land softly on the tile floor, your head in Jaehee’s lap. She strokes your hair while you sob, occasionally shushing you when your breathing gets too quick and planting kisses on your temple when you squeeze her hand. You’re not sure how much time has passed, but you gingerly sit up from your position on the bathroom floor, avoiding Jaehee’s eyes. You pull your tshirt over your head and put your jeans on, one leg at a time. “Do you want to talk about it, MC?” Without looking at her, you answer with a slight nod of your head and reach for her hand. She allows you to lead her into the living room, where she joins you on the couch. You take a deep breath in and finally meet her eyes. “My dad… he was a very cruel person. When I lived with him, he always told me that I was fat, stupid, worthless; that I’d never find love and I’d always been a burden on his household, and his family name. When I told my parents that I was gay… he threw me out of his house, screamed at me, told me I wasn’t welcome in his sight… that I was a fat dyke…” You throw your face in your hands, tears streaming down your face. Jaehee had been silent the entire time you were speaking, but now she is pushing your hair out of your face, putting her hands anywhere she can. She kisses every inch of your face, down your neck, and back up to your cheeks until she kisses the tip of your nose. When you crack a smile, she pushes her lips against yours. Breaking the kiss, she pulls way enough to whisper, “MC, you are completely perfect. Your father is a stupid, stupid man if he honestly thought any of those things,” she places one more kiss on your lips, before pulling away completely and continuing. “He sounds like an insecure man who couldn’t bare the thought of his daughter being smarter or more successful than himself, so he berated and belittled you until you weren’t confident enough to surpass him. I can promise you, you are none of those things he said, MC. Surely you must realize that you’re beautiful and smart. You’re the kindest person I have ever met and, if I’m being honest,” she leans in close again, whispering “you have the most amazing body I have ever seen.” Months pass, and Jaehee has not stopped paying you compliment after compliment. She even had you print out a photo of your father, to hang on the coffee shop bulletin board, under a sign that read, ‘Banned for life, contact police if you see this man in the building’. You glance at it from your position behind the counter and chuckle to yourself. To you, the sign seemed overkill, but Jaehee had insisted. “If he ever shows up in your life again, I want him to know just how unwelcome he is in our lives.” You finish wiping down the counter, check the coffee makers to make sure they’re turned off, and make your way to the front of the store. Shutting off the lights, you do one more glance over before pushing the front door open and locking it behind you. The sun has only just set and in the dim remainder of sunlight, you see a figure standing across the street. Startled, you gasp and drop your shop keys. You stand up, after collecting your keys from the ground, the figure has vanished. When you arrive home, you tell Jaehee about your weird experience when closing up the store. She agrees that it was strange, but reassures you that it was probably nothing. Kissing you on the nose, she retreats to the kitchen to finish cooking dinner. You plop onto the couch, stretching. In your sweater pocket, your phone buzzes. Pulling it out, it displays a text from a blocked number: ‘I saw you at that coffee shop today. I’ll be visiting again.’ Unsure of what to say, you stare blankly at your phone. What? Who could have texted you? Was it the figure from earlier? Your mind racing with questions, you don’t hear Jaehee approach behind you. “MC?” The sound of her voice makes you jump out of your skin and you drop your phone. Concerned, she sits next to you and places her soft hands around yours. “I think that figure I saw tonight just texted me, Jaehee…” Retrieving your phone from the carpet, she reads over the text. “...I’m going to call Mr. Han - I mean Jumin, and ask him if we can borrow some security guards for the shop.” “No, Jaehee, that’s too much. I’m sure it’s a harmless prank. There’s no need to bother Jumin this late at night.” Jaehee looks at you like she wants to argue, but she leaves it be. “Okay, love,” she agrees, lowering her head to lay on your lap. You both doze off to sleep, curled on the couch together. The next morning, Jaehee sends you off to open the coffee shop while she runs to the store. “I’ll join you at the shop in a couple of hours,dear.” Nodding and kissing her goodbye, you walk outside and hail a cab. You always enjoy opening the shop; the sounds of the city before it’s fully awake, the smells of coffee brewing and muffins baking, the calmness of an empty store before it fills with people on their way to work, or setting up their laptops at corner tables. Like Jaehee, you find peace in this cafe. The clock strikes 6 o’clock, marking that it’s time to open. Unlocking the door and turning on your open sign, you wait for your first customers. Your shop has several regulars who stop by almost every morning on their way to work, usually making friendly small talk. A few minutes pass and customers start coming in. Once you’re in the flow of work, you hardly notice as the clock strikes 8am. The stream of customers slows down, most people finally off to work. Only students remain in the shop, most of them typing away at their phones and laptops. Grabbing a broom, you start to sweep the floor from the morning rush. With your back facing the door, you hear it open and slam shut. You let out a sing song-y “Hello!” before walking towards the wall to set down your broom. Turning around, your voice catches in your throat. Standing at the counter is your father. He’s not facing you, he’s facing the bulletin board - the one with his picture on it. He’s slowly shaking his head, and the sudden laugh he belts out makes you cringe and shrink inward. “You never cease to amaze me, MC. This is a new low. How pathetic. Take it down. Now.” He’s facing you now, cold eyes bearing down at you, as he slowly walks toward you. Every step he takes in your direction, you step backwards, until your back is against the wall. Your foot knocks the broom over, and the sound of the handle hitting the floor makes you yelp in surprise. “Take the fucking picture down, MC. You’re being dramatic and embarrassing me. As usual. Look at you, you must have gained weight, you look terrible. I always knew you’d end up working part time in some low end cafe. You never were smart enough for college.” Looking at your feet with tears in your eyes, you mumble, “I’m one of the owners, Father.” He laughs so loudly and sharply, you flinch. Another step closer. “That’s even more stupid, MC. You’ll lose all your money.” He’s now towering over you, fists balled at his sides. “Get out of my cafe, Father. You’re not welcome here.” You try to raise your voice to sound intimidating, but your voice cracks, making your father smirk. One of his balled fists slams into the wall beside your head and you screw your eyes shut, preparing for the worst. “MC! I’ll call the police!” One of the regulars has his cell phone in his hand. Your father glances at the man and scoffs. His fist he has against the wall drops, only to grab hold of your shoulder and squeeze. Hard. You cry out and try to push him away, but his other hand grabs your other shoulder and he’s shaking you and yelling. Suddenly, he’s on the ground. Jaehee is in one of her training stances, her hands in front of her chest in a defensive position. Rubbing his hip, your father slowly stands and glares at her. “Is this your lesbian lover? She’s almost as ugly as you, MC.” “Shut up and get out of our cafe, Father. The cops are on their way. We will be pressing charges.” He growls and steps towards you, but Jaehee has her foot wrapped around his leg and flipping onto his back before you can even blink. Her legs are wrapped around his arm and she’s pulling it towards her. He’s screaming and cursing, swinging his other arm wildly, trying to reach Jaehee. “Get. Out.” She says evenly, before releasing him and returning to her defensive stance, this time standing in front of you. Your father slowly rises from the ground, rubbing his shoulder. His hair and shirt are disheveled and his face is red from yelling. He thinks about it for a minute, then backs towards the door. “You’re unbelievable, MC. Childish.” You shake your head, “Just go, Father.” You intend your sentence to drip with venom, but instead you sound sad and tired. He slams the front door open and leaves. Jaehee releases her defensive pose and immediately, her hands are on you - your face, hair, shoulders, and hands. “Are you okay, MC? I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner, the store was so busy! Where are the cops, they should’ve come sooner-” Your lips on hers makes her cut off her rambling. Several of the regulars ‘Awww’ at your embrace and you feel your cheeks flush. The door to the coffee shop opens and two police officers step in. Jaehee and a couple of your regulars approach and speak with the officers, while you retreat into the bathroom to wash your face. As you rub the wet towel against your face, tears spill and you let out a sob. Your chest tightens and you feel like you’re going to collapse on yourself. You sink down the crouch in front of the sink, holding the bowl for support and clutching your chest, trying to reign in the flow of tears. You hear a knock on the door, followed by Jaehee poking her head in. She looks like she’s going to say something, but when she sees you on the floor, she rushes to your side. Kneeling beside you, she wipes the tears off your cheeks and shushes you, cradling your head against her chest. “The cops want to talk to you, MC, but only when you’re ready. Do you want to go home, and we can talk to them tomorrow?” You shake your head, then nod, confusing Jaehee. She stares at you, blankly, unsure of what to say or do. She looks so cute, clueless and despite yourself, you let out a small giggle. Hearing you laugh, her face lights up. She stands and help you up, straightening your hair and shirt, and presses a feather light kiss against your cheek. As she leads you out of the bathroom, you gather your thoughts. Maybe your father was wrong about you. If Jaehee, this successful, beautiful woman with goals and dreams, looks at you the way she does… Well, you can’t be all that bad, right? You hold your head a little higher, as you shake hands with the officer. You’re going to be okay.

 

V

It was just an ordinary day when you decided to tell V that your father was a horrible man. Startled by the sudden revelation, V silently sets down his pipe and turns to you, waiting for you to continue. Clearing your throat and breathing in to calm yourself, you make sure you can’t see his face as you continue to talk. “My father has never been a kind man, but to me - he was never even a father. He would bring home enough money to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly - but he made sure I knew about it. He wanted me to know that the day I was born was the literally the day his life was ruined.” V’s hand immediately shot out to yours and squeezed gently, letting you know that he was there and that you were safe. Squeezing back, you nod and find the strength to keep going. “Everyday he’d bark at me to clean myself up, to get smarter, to get better looking - that if I was to stay and ever be acknowledged, that I would need to be better than whatever I was. No matter… no matter how I tried to be better… it was never enough. I was never enough” you sobbed, breaking down, hiding your face into your hands. You could feel V shift over closer to you, unable to stay away from you with you in your current state. He wraps his long, lean arms around you - his hand cradling around your head as he tries to soothe you with low, calming noises. After you finally manage to reel yourself in, you look back up to your kind-hearted partner and feel your chest fill up with love. He is looking at you with such patience and understanding that you know that you could take forever to finish speaking and that he would still be here, listening to every word you say. So, there you sit on the couch, in his arms as you speak of the horrors your father put you through. How he’d torment you in front of your friends, so much that you stopped bringing them around to save them the second-hand embarrassment. Once, one of your friends told their parents how you were treated at home and their parents rang your father to see if it was true - of course your father broadcasted the sweet, kind and understanding father routine - he was good at showing it to anyone else but you. After your father hung up, you were so sure it would be the first time he would lay his hands on you, the way he yelled and roared - the filth that would come out of his mouth stung harder than any belt, and left marks that never truly healed. V holds you and squeezes his arms around you with every crack of emotion in your voice, running his hands lightly up and down the sides of your arms to encourage you to keep going and his lips occasionally kissing your temple. It has been two hours since you started speaking and he has yet to say a word. You tell him that when you were old enough to get a job after school, you started to work without your father’s knowledge, as you wanted to save up as much as you could, so that when you were old enough you could move out and never have to see him again. When you turned 16, you packed your bags and left home and hoped to never hear from the man who never called you daughter. After a long pause, V clears his throat, which makes you look up at him from your spot on his chest. He keeps opening and closing his mouth, like he wants to say something, but doesn’t quite know how to phrase it. Finally, he smiles softly down at you and presses his lips gently against your forehead. “MC - I am… I am so sorry that you had to go through that. To think that you came from such a horrid upbringing but grew to become the kind and loving person I know now - you just prove to me, more and more every day, my love, that you are the best person I have ever known,” he whispers, not moving away from you, so you can feel his lips move as he speaks. Like he is trying to cover all the invisible scars that are left on you with his love and words alone. Snuggling even closer to him, you can feel yourself smiling at the strokes of his palm against your hair. “As much as I appreciate the effort this must have taken to tell me,” he begins as he continues his ministrations, “- I must know why you felt the need to tell me now. None of this changes anything between us except making me love you more.” Wearily, you get up away from his comforting touch and sigh as you bring out your phone. You open a text you received from an unknown number, letting him read over the words that had made you want to retch all day. It says that he misses you and regrets the time you both lost when you decided to move away, that now more than ever, he realises how precious family is and how much he wants to reconnect… now that he’s found out he has cancer… Funny that he and his illness miraculously appear when it was just announced that you are engaged to one of the richest men in the country. You can see V’s mouth tighten at the sides and a little vein on the side of his jaw twitch - his countenance one of anger and annoyance. With the way that his arm unconsciously brings you even closer to him, almost so that you are on top of him, you know that he wants nothing more than to protect you from this failure of a father. Putting the phone down, he gets to his feet and pulls you up with him. Taking you to the master suite bathroom, he carefully peels away your clothing until you’re bare in front of him - only for a moment - before he wraps you in his old, fluffy bathrobe. The one you steal from him every day because it “feels like you’re always hugging me”. He starts to fill the bath with warm water and puts in one of your favourite bath bombs. He goes around lighting all the candles littered around the bathroom, turning on the stereo in the bedroom to play your favourite classical album - all the things he knows you did to unwind at the end of particularly terrible days. Removing the robe from you, he puts it to the side. Picking you up with ease, he sets you in the bathtub, never letting you go until he knows you’ve completely sat down. Folding his bathrobe into a rough square, he gently lifts your head and slides it behind your neck for a make-shift pillow. Bending down, so that he is as close to face to face as possible, he lets his thumb caress the line where your hair meets your forehead and lets his eyes wander over you in what looks like adoration and marvel. “I love you MC, I want you to know that whatever you need, I’ll be right here for you. But I also want you to know that you made the choice to leave that life behind- that you walked away with your head held high and now you’re here- a million miles away from that life, from that time, away from him.” You smile and find yourself agreeing with him, you did walk away and now he was crawling back. You didn’t have to let him back into your life. In fact- you’re not going to, not unless he acknowledges his past treatment of you and apologises… and even then, you still may not. Before he draws completely away, you take his hand in yours and kiss the skin on the back of it, drawing a surprised smile from your fiancé. “Relax MC, I want you to take your time and relax, then you can decide what you want later on-” “No you’re right! I walked away! I don’t want him near me again, this life I have with you and the others - the one I made for myself - it doesn’t have room for him in it,” you agree. V nods and smiles before leaning in and giving you a sweet, chaste kiss against your lips. Walking out of the room, V picks up both his and your phone and dials your father’s number. Your father answers grouchily, but quickly changes his tune when he finds out he is talking to Jihyun Kim, his future son in law. He gushes about how it was time to meet each other and teases how cheeky it was that he hadn’t come to him to secure his blessing. “I didn’t realize I needed to secure a dead man’s blessing,” he states. A dark pause resting between the two men, “I beg your pardon?” your father screeches. “You haven’t even begun to beg yet” V threatens, his voice more menacing than he has ever heard it, dripping with the malice and distaste he holds for the man. “MC does not want to hear from you again, do you understand me? She doesn’t want or need you in her life, but you’re trying to worm your way back in - Why? For money? Is that all?” her father stammers and tries to deny it but V already knows the truth. “Do you know what money can buy you, Sir? Money can buy you power, money can buy you people… and money can even buy freedom. MC wants freedom from you and I have the money to do that for her - but if you so much as dial her number again, I can buy the right people to show you exactly how much more your life can actually be ruined.” Hanging up the phone and throwing it back on the sofa, V walks back in to sit on the edge of the tub to silently watch over you. Once you tell him you’re all relaxed out and about to fall asleep, he helps you out the tub and dries you off and allows you to finish off your nightly routine. Joining you in bed, he wraps his much larger body around yours, bringing your back to meet his front and kisses you on the back of your neck. “Thank you for sharing more of yourself with me MC,” he whispers to you, as you slowly start to fade away to sleep. “Now that I’m with you, I’m going to make sure no one can hurt you again.” You fall asleep in each other’s arms, and for the first time in a long time- you do not see a glimpse of your father anywhere in your sleep. You try to call your father the next day to tell him you want nothing to do with him and give him a piece of your mind - however the number is unavailable, it does not exist. You cannot bring yourself to care.


End file.
